


Be Mine, Be Kind (But Be Cruel To Me)

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Hair-pulling, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right before James knocked over that desk (and Carlos), Kendall had caught a glimpse of it; lips parted, chest heaving, eyes bright. It almost looked like he was turned on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Mine, Be Kind (But Be Cruel To Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt over at the [btr_kink meme]() _"Everyone thinks that James doesn't like to have people touch his hair because of his vanity about it. He really doesn't like people touching it because he doesn't want them to pull it because it turns him on. One of the guys finds out somehow and uses it against him."_

Kendall leans against the doorframe of the bathroom, exasperated. “I. Need. To. Shower,” he enunciates, his words clipped off at the end because of how impatient he is. “I reek like chlorine, and I’m going to be late.”  
  
James peeks at Kendall’s reflection in the mirror, his fingers frozen mid arrangement. “And whose fault is that? No one told you to go swimming before class.”  
  
“James,” Kendall says, and he’s not pouting. He’s reasonably certain that he’s not.  
  
James’s smirk says different.  
  
“I’m almost done.”  
  
“You said that half an hour ago.”  
  
“Did I?” James cocks his head to the side and purses his lips at the mirror like he’s modeling for Vogue. “Perfection like this takes time.”  
  
He returns to styling, making sure there is not a single strand out of place. Kendall stomps his foot and groans. “James.”  
  
“Okay, okay, geez.” James carefully smoothes a hand over his bangs and begins packing away his gel and whatever the hell else is in the many bottles he’s got gathered on the sink counter.  
  
“Finally,” Kendall mutters, marching into the bathroom. He ignores James, shrugging off his t-shirt and working open the drawstring on his pants.  
  
“Dude, I know I look good, but you don’t have to get naked for me,” James mocks, in no hurry to leave. Kendall rolls his eyes.  
  
“Your face is lame,” he says, crowding James out of the room.  
  
“I’d be insulted if I didn’t already know that is completely incorrect,” James replies, the door already swinging closed. It whacks him in the butt with a satisfying thud.  
  
Kendall’s about to turn the lock and take his shower in peace when there’s a knock and a whine. “Kendall, I forgot my lucky comb.”  
  
He gives the door a dark look. Kendall allows James back in to grab his stupid fucking comb, never mind that he’s already running so late that he foresees yelling in his future. A lot of yelling. Stupid James and his stupid comb and his stupid, stupid hair.  
  
Did he really need to spend so much time playing with gel?  
  
Does he really even need to waste another minute getting his dumb comb?  
  
James knows that there’s no way Kendall is ever going to make it on time now. He is _such_ an asshole.  
  
That’s what Kendall is thinking when a wicked smile creeps up on his lips and he reaches out right before the door swings shut again.  
  
James’s carefully styled hair took an hour and a half to do, but mussing it up only takes a millisecond.  
  
And then it all goes wrong.  
  
It’s the weirdest thing. Kendall’s fingertips rake along James’s scalp, digging in deep as he tugs thick brown between each digit, and he could swear for a split second that the noise James makes is something like a pleasured groan. He doesn’t get the time to process it, though, because whatever the noise James made was, it turns into an indignant yelp. Expletives fall from his lips, and Kendall has to forcibly slam the bathroom door in his face.  
  
And then- because it doesn’t take much to get him horny, and that noise James made, real or imaginary, was hot as hell- he jerks himself off under a steady stream of scalding water.  
  
By the time he finishes up, he’s really fucking late for class.

  


\---

  
It’s not sadism.  
  
No, really, it’s not.  
  
The second time that morning that Kendall messes up James’s hair- much like the first time- is in the name of _revenge_. James brings it upon himself by being a jackass. See, he’s bragging to one of the girls in class that he is not only a superstar singer (true enough), but that he’s also the best hockey player from their high school back in Minnesota. It is an untrue (and laughable) rumor that the girl proceeds to spread to her friends, who are listening in on the conversation.  
  
James goes on, talking about how he singlehandedly won the team nationals (Kendall did that) and the day he taught his friends how to perfect their slapshots (Kendall did that too), and the girls keep darting giggly little looks in Kendall’s direction. Kendall is sitting diagonally behind and to the left of the group, and he can hear every single lie spilling from his best friend’s mouth. And the worst part is, James is perfectly aware of how much it’s pissing Kendall off. He’s doing it on _purpose_.  
  
His hands clench into fists, and okay, Kendall may have some serious anger management issues, but this is a matter of pride. Kendall can kick James’s ass anytime, anyplace. He can’t actually punch James in the jaw like he wants to when Miss Collins is in the midst of trying to force world history down their throats, but Kendall is creative. He is perfectly capable of thinking outside the box. So, in a completely non-sadistic manner, he reaches out and ruffles James’s hair, muttering, “Dream on.”  
  
In his head, the act is completely effortless; his movements are clean, smooth, and unnoticeable, and James can’t do anything more than gape at him. In real life? Kendall pulls it off pretty gracefully, but James doesn’t follow his mental blueprint. Instead, James jumps to his feet, stumbling into the desk and student behind him and knocking both over.  
  
Fortunately, the owner of the desk is Carlos, who comes pre-equipped with a helmet to protect his thick but fragile head when he hits the floor. Not so much his butt, as evidenced by the cat-like yowl he gives when he falls.  
  
Unfortunately, all the crashing furniture alerts Miss Collins to the situation. She ends up putting all three of them in lunch detention, where they get to trace chalky lines over and over again on an ancient blackboard.  
  
Kendall doesn’t even mind. Every time his hand follows the curve of the chalk, he can’t help but stare at it, entranced; caught in the remembrance of the expression on James’s face when his fingers touched his hair. Right before James knocked over that desk (and Carlos), Kendall had caught a glimpse of it; lips parted, chest heaving, eyes bright.  
  
It almost looked like he was turned on.  
  
The thought hits him like a bullet train. It makes so much sense that Kendall can’t even be surprised by it. James hates when people touch his hair; even the stylists at Rocque Records aren’t allowed near it. Kendall always figured it had something to do with all the time he put into styling, and the whole _my body is a temple_ spiel that he’s only ever half listened to, but this?  
  
This is infinitely more _fun_.  
  
Kendall’s not a fan of the scientific process or anything, but he’s learned enough from Logan to know that the next step after forming a hypothesis is testing it out. Gleefully, he does just that.  
  
He starts right then, during detention. Under the pretense of needing extra space on the board, Kendall edges over to James. He doesn’t move, just like Kendall knew he wouldn’t, because James is stubborn and pissed at Kendall for landing them in detention in the first place. Kendall does not let that deter him. Feeling pretty cheerful about the whole thing, Kendall shoves his chalky fingers through James’s bangs in a casual attempt to make him squirm.  
  
He gets exactly the knee jerk reaction that he wants, or more accurately, _hip-jerk_. That’s exactly the phase for the way James’s hips stutter forward when Kendall runs his fingers across James’s scalp and all the way down his neck, tugging a little harder than is strictly necessary on the short hair growing there. Just to be an asshole, Kendall lingers, winding his index finger in a soft wave and pulling. James actually _moans_ , hips jerking again so hard that he bumps into the chalkboard, setting it wobbling.  
  
Kendall’s dick reminds him of its existence. Kendall tells his dick to shut the hell up.  
  
“Dude,” Carlos says at the noise, staring at James. “What is your problem today?”  
  
“I-um.” James panics. He is the proverbial deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler, and his eyes are so big and wide that Kendall almost feels bad about screwing around with him. Almost, but not quite. He smirks, making it clear that he’s figured out James’s game.  
  
If anything, James’s pupils get wider, irises darkening with something that Kendall can’t figure out.  
  
Carlos continues to stare, oblivious to the complete and total way James just got owned.  
  
“Stop messing up my hair!” James finally chooses to yell at Kendall. He then proceeds to march out of the room in a very dramatic fashion.  
  
“You can’t leave!” Carlos calls after him. “We still have one hundred more lines of _I Will Not Disrespect Bastille Day_!”  
  
James apparently does not care about the French or their revolution.  
  
“Dude,” Carlos whines at Kendall, because James is already long gone. Maybe even to the bathroom. “I hope you’re happy now.”  
  
Kendall is _ecstatic_. He hasn’t had that much fun since at least yesterday afternoon, when he accidentally-on-purpose threw a water balloon at Gustavo’s car.  
  
Logan may have a point about science being awesome.

  


\---

  
It’s not that Kendall likes torturing his friends, but sometimes they really, really deserve it.  
  
He is pretty certain that James _deserves_ it hard. The shower incident is something that happens every other morning, and besides that, the Palmwoods seems to be buzzing about how James Diamond is the best hockey player in the _entire world_. Retaliation at this point is like, a necessity.  
  
They’re in the pool, and James is floating on his back, a prissy look on his face and his skin all shimmery golden. Kendall can’t really even help yanking at the roots of his hair and pulling him under.  
  
Which- given the gasping and moaning and general inhalations that mean James’s mouth gapes wide open the second Kendall touches his hair- is probably a bad idea. James nearly drowns from swallowing half the pool, and he is less than pleased with Kendall’s general existence.  
  
Less than pleased being a nice way to say that he tries to drown Kendall in turn. There is a minor splash war that involves a lot of rubbing and brushing and the strange realization that James is actually a little hard. Followed by the even stranger and scarier realization that Kendall maybe is too, and oh god please, he mentally begs, don’t let James _feel_ it. Luckily, their impromptu fight is broken up by nearby responsible adults (although most of the credit goes to Katie and her persuasive ear tugging).  
  
Kendall still doesn’t learn his lesson.  
  
He does it again at lunch, because it’s funny when James drops an entire burrito in his lap, and then a fifth time in the sound booth at the studio so that he can hear what James’s voice sounds like all high and raspy and magnified with lust. But then he starts to feel bad.  
  
He thinks about how he would suffer if someone came up and assaulted his most sensitive spots. Even if it was one of his friends, Kendall imagines he wouldn’t like it very much. It’s almost cruel, actually, getting James riled up without any kind of outlet.  
  
Or maybe he does have one. One of the pretty Palmwoods residents who is completely infatuated with him, perhaps? Whoever it is, it’s not like James is ever going to want to use _Kendall_ as any kind of outlet, which is almost- disappointing.  
  
Weird.  
  
Having a conscience is a total buzz kill. Still, Kendall figures that he’s tortured James enough. He’s starting to feel like one of those creepy old men on buses who grope unsuspecting women.  
  
Which is why he feels _really bad_ when he accidentally does it again.  
  
Night is falling on the horizon, and James is sitting on the couch, splayed out all lazy and confident. He’s got one foot in the air, ankle resting against his knee, and he’s giving a running commentary on how hideous the clothes are in the documentary that Logan’s trying to focus on. This time, Kendall doesn’t even mean to do it when he leans forward and ruffles James’s hair on the way to the fridge.  
  
James gasps sharply, but it’s only when Kendall hears a booted foot hitting the ground that he realizes what he’s done. _Oops_. Logan glances at James’s mussed hair and snorts, completely unsympathetic. Kendall stares at his fingers and feels kind of awful, because the move was almost instinctive after doing it over and over again all day.  
  
Also, now he smells like Cuda products.  
  
“James,” Kendall tries, sounding very sorry, but James doesn’t seem to care how apologetic Kendall’s feeling, because he’s glaring resolutely at the TV.  
  
Kendall mutters, “That’s mature,” but he’s distracted from most of his ire by how tight his pants have gotten. He ignores it and pours himself some milk.

  


\---

  
It’s a little, uh, unnerving when Kendall turns around in the midst of changing into pajama pants to find James, looming behind him. He didn’t even hear James _come in_ , which-  
  
Kendall’s first instinct is to do a quick check for a knife, because James has a flare for the dramatic and his stance is more than a little menacing. James is- thankfully- unarmed, but he is also glaring at him, full of cold fury. Kendall can feel ice creeping up the back of his spine from all the way across the room.  
  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  
  
Kendall feels like he should be the one asking that, because he’s got one leg in his flannel sleep pants and one leg out in the air conditioned breeze, so to speak. It’s not like he creeps into other people’s bedrooms and plays scary voyeur, but. Well, he knows what James is referring to.  
  
“Messing with you,” Kendall says, because he is, _obviously_.  
  
James stalks across the room, getting up in his face, and maybe Kendall would be intimidated if he hadn’t been in this situation a million times before. He and James are always at odds, and the only thing that makes this time different is his secret weapon.  
  
The time for consciences is over.  
  
Smirking, Kendall reaches up and brushes his fingers through the hair curling around the shell of James’s ear. James shudders violently, his eyes flicking closed. He looks like he’s steeling himself for something. Maybe to break Kendall’s nose, which cannot be allowed to happen. Kendall likes his nose.  
  
He traces the line of James’s ear before winding his hand around the back of James’s head, and it’s like all the resolve in James’s face crumples.  
  
“Kendall, please. Please just, _stop_. I’ve been horny all fucking day, and it’s not fun, and I just need you to…” James trails off, exhaling, all breathless. He’s watching Kendall’s face, almost wistful.  
  
And okay, Kendall’s not the brightest.  
  
He’d made the connection between James’s hair and his dick in a funny-haha-you-have-a-boner-in-public-an

d-I-am-an-idiotic-teeanger way, but he hadn’t really comprehended that hey, _he_ was legitimately getting James _hard_ until right this minute. It was a funny, slightly sexy game, and Kendall could ignore his own rebellious dick because friends don’t get hard over their friends. But now the realization is starting to sink in that James was actually, legitimately getting hard right back; growing from a distant hazy idea in the back of his mind to a very real, very sexy reality. The way James is looking at Kendall? It’s as though he himself is actually _desirable_ , like he’s a fucking porn star.

Kendall’s not sure what he expected to come out of this game, but it certainly wasn’t being looked at like this. They’re still Kendall and James, _best friends_ , but it’s like the boundaries have shifted between them, and it’s a pretty powerful feeling. All it takes is a twitch of his fingers and Kendall can turn James to putty.

That’s not something he’s ever thought he’d be able to do before.

“You really like this,” Kendall says, and his voice sounds kind of awed, shifting his hand just so he can watch James shiver.

“I don’t-“ James grits out, “I don’t like it when you’re just _teasing_ me.”

Thoughtful, Kendall sifts his fingers through James’s hair again. He whimpers and nudges up into the touch, like a dog insistent on getting its ears scratched. “Teasing, hmm?

“Yes, god- Kendall.” James gasps when Kendall digs his fingers into his scalp. “Kendall,” he pleads, all needy and high. “Just- I need-“

“What?” Kendall murmurs, rubbing a pattern across bone, pulling lightly at the strands of hair that slip between his fingers. “What do you need?”

James manages to muster up something like a glare and says, “I need you to fuck me or leave me the fuck alone.”

Kendall feels those words in the pit of his stomach, turning everything molten hot and liquid. He twines both of his hands into James’s hair, clutching his ears and his cheekbones and drawing him in close. There’s this moment that ticks by in breath sounds and the color of James’s eyes, and then Kendall is kissing him.

James’s lips are fever hot and he wastes no time in kissing back, pressing his body up against Kendall’s and scrabbling to grip his shoulders and waist, hard. He moans into Kendall’s mouth every time Kendall’s hands move, ridiculously sensitive, ridiculously hot. When they have to break for air, Kendall pulls at James’s hair, exposing his throat, and James’s breathing goes shallow. Without letting go, Kendall traces the curve of James’s neck with his tongue, dipping along every hollow, sucking at each pulse point.

The noises James makes are obscene; somewhere between a grunt and a whimper that rumbles low in his chest.

“Tease,” he accuses breathlessly. And that is slander that cannot stand. Kendall hastily shakes his pajama bottoms off of his one leg, and then relinquishes his hold on James’s hair, opting instead to help him out of his shirt. He ignores the sound of ripped seams and runs his fingertips down James’s side so that he shivers into it, tee dropping to the floor. Which brings him to his next project-

“Do you have to wear such tight jeans?” Kendall demands, panting, struggling with trying to get James’s skinny pants past his thighs.

James actually sounds wounded when he says, “These look hot one me.”

“They’d look even hotter off of you,” Kendall retorts, nipping at James’s ear. James apparently agrees because he helps Kendall peel those stupid jeans down to his ankles, at which point Kendall goes down on one knee and extricates his feet like the white knight that his mother always taught him to be.

Of course, she’d probably never expected he’d use that advice to get laid, or if she had, she probably thought there would be a girl in the equation. James seems pretty pleased either way, so it works. And he’s not wearing anything under the jeans, which means that Kendall is also rather satisfied when he comes face to face with James’s dick. He presses a kiss to the head, but James shakes his head frantically, hauling Kendall to his feet, for another kiss. He starts stroking Kendall through the fabric of his boxers, palming his cock and mumbling, “Time for that later. I need you to fuck me _now_.”

Okay then. Kendall kneads his fingers into the flesh of James’s ass, hitching him closer.

“Do you-“ James asks, and Kendall already knows, is already walking them away from his bed, towards his dresser, where he’s hidden away lube and the condoms that Dr. Hollywood keeps forcing on him whenever he visits the clinic for a scraped knee or a cold. He’s only gotten to use one or two before, with Jo in bygone days, but he’s glad he didn’t throw the whole stash in the trash now. Except-

Kendall hasn’t done this before, not with a boy, but he knows James has a handful of times, and he’s worried about whether he’ll be any good at it. He’s never had any complaints from girls before, but still. He wants to be impressive, because he’s always liked impressing James.

James doesn’t look like he expects anything impressive at all. He breaks from their kiss, grabbing the plastic bottle of lube. He slicks up his own hand, bracing himself against the edge of the dresser as he fingers himself, and Kendall has to take a step back and breathe.

He’s standing in his room with his best friend, naked, watching him fuck himself on his own fingers, and for the first time he thinks it might be too much. There’s an order to these things that usually includes dinner dates and making out on the living room couch; not schoolyard hair pulling and the close-to-violent need to get off. Kendall wants to stop, to say that they need to slow down immediately, but. He can’t.

James is watching Kendall with hungry eyes.

Obligingly, Kendall kicks off his boxers and rips open the foil edge of the condom. He does a quick check for holes before sliding it onto his dick. When he hears the soft crinkle of the latex, he cringes. What if he’s not even good?

There must be something on his face, because now James is touching him, stroking a finger along the shape of his lips and saying, “Hey. _Hey_ , Kendall, what’s wrong? Are you- do you not want to-“

“No,” Kendall says. “I want to.”

James’s shoulders nearly slump with relief, and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Kendall’s mouth that’s sweeter than anything they’ve shared tonight. “Then what?”

“What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” James says with complete certainty. He does a quick, rather sexy demonstration, slipping a couple of his own fingers back into his lubed up ass. He ruins the comedy of it by gazing up fiercely at Kendall and murmuring, “I trust you.”

That’s the problem.

Kendall has a lot of trouble getting what he feels out into the world because he’s not huge on exposing his vulnerabilities. He has to force himself to do it this time, because this? It’s important. “Yeah, but what if you hate me afterwards?”

“That’s not even possible,” James says, and again, the words are firm.

“But we’ve never- and I’ve never,” he trips over his own words, completely and utterly humiliated by his own inexperience.

James actually has the nerve to laugh at him, and between the sound and Kendall’s nervous energy, his dick is slowly softening. James spots it and says, “Hey, hey, stop that.”

He surges forward, capturing Kendall’s mouth and then licking along his throat. Kendall isn’t anywhere near as sensitive as James, but it still feels good, feels intimate and dangerous having his jugular anywhere near another person’s mouth. And then James drops to his knees and begins to brush his lips against Kendall’s thighs.

“Stop it,” he says again, breath hot against Kendall’s balls. He presses a kiss to the base of his shaft and stares up at Kendall, eyes intense, and okay, yeah, that’s pretty appealing. Kendall’s breathing is shallowing out again, and James says, “You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted you.”

Kendall feels the need to snark, to suggest _since this morning_ , since he first started pulling James’s hair like a third grade girl with a crush? But James is barreling on, “How could anyone not want you?”

The urge to use sarcasm dissipates, and Kendall is caught in James’s dark gaze, trapped when he sucks one of his balls into his mouth, tonguing around it, gentle but filthy. James makes this noise like Kendall’s doing something other than standing there, like Kendall’s already fucking him, and his dick throbs with interest, all his jangly nerves forgotten.

James gives the same attention to his other testicle before letting it fall from his lips, lapping at the skin and then moving on to nip at the tender flesh low on Kendall’s hipbone. He sucks a mark there, and then another on the side of his hip, moving up in intervals until he’s at Kendall’s waist, and Kendall can’t help but dig his fingers into James’s hair, eliciting a small, needy moan that he can feel against his skin.

Fuck, he’s ready.

He fists his hand in James’s hair, using it to pull him to his feet, his other hand supporting James’s arm so that he doesn’t actually hurt him. James whimpers, very obviously excited by this turn of events. He’s up in Kendall’s space, trying to kiss him, lips gaping open and closed, but Kendall pulls his head back so that he can mouth against James’s throat, so that he can make a mark of his own; something red and tender against his tongue. James ruts his hips into the dips of Kendall’s until their bodies align, so that their cocks rub together until the friction is intolerable. James is panting, chanting his name, saying, “Kendall, Kendall, fuck me. It will be so good, I promise, so- so good.”

And Kendall is pretty convinced that it will be. He flips James around so that the front of his body is braced up against the wall.

“Wait- bed?” James asks.

“Too far,” Kendall mumbles into the skin of his shoulder.

James actually smiles at that, “Sweet.”

Kendall tests a finger in James’s ass and it’s still slick with the strange viscosity of lube, but just to be safe, he runs a quick layer down the surface of the condom with a hasty pump of his fist. He throws the bottle on the floor, not bothering to check and see where it lands. He’s too busy pushing his dick up against James’s asshole, watching the muscle twitch at the contact. It’s almost like he’s trying to draw Kendall in, and he probably actually is, because James is pleading, “Just do it already.”

Kendall grins, tugging the strands of hair still tangled in his fingers. James yelps, hips moving involuntarily, and Kendall slides inside. Fuck. He completely loses whatever brainpower he had to work with before, driving slowly forward again, and then again, and then again; the motion experimental, but barely voluntary. Kendall doesn’t know how long he’s going to be able to hold back with James’s heat pressing all around him, tighter than any girl. He kisses the notches of James’s spine, slow and soft, trying to force himself not to move too fast or too hard. James props a forearm against the wall, breathing through it, getting used to the stretch of having Kendall inside of him. It doesn’t take long.

It’s when Kendall pushes the flat of his tongue against the nape of James’s neck, licking a long line up into the sweat beading at his hairline that he realizes how little control he actually has. James thrusts back so hard onto his dick that Kendall nearly loses his balance. He has to brace both of his hands on James’s hips and he’s convinced that he’s leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers all across his skin. James cranes his head back, landing sloppy kisses on the side of Kendall’s chin, and Kendall has to free up a hand to grab hold of his cheek, yank light at his hair to get him in the right position so that their mouths can line up. Kendall kisses him hard, tongue crashing into his mouth, swallowing the noisy groans James makes as he pumps into him in short, slow undulations. He can feel the sound in his lungs, in the way that James’s body reverberates with it, and it trembles through his chest.

They’re actually doing this. He’s actually fucking James. And James is begging for it, trying to rock back into each thrust now, mumbling into his mouth, “Kendall, faster, c’mon.”

He makes this completely indescribable noise, something low in his chest like a growl, and Kendall has to still his hips for a second to keep from cumming on the spot. He has to keep one arm pressed against James’s stomach to keep him from bucking back, the other still tangled in the fringey bits of hair curling around his ear, breathing in his oxygen and trying to hold still, to force himself to focus on the wet latex against his cock instead of how he’s buried deeper inside his best friend than he ever would have thought possible. His entire body feels over-sensitized, and he has to inhale long and deep to wrangle back the edges of his control. The way James’s lips brush against his, soft and needy doesn’t help, nor does the way that most of the air Kendall is breathing comes straight form James’s lungs, making his mind hazy with the lack of clean, fresh oxygen.

“Kendall, please, move, pleaseplease _please_ ,” James babbles, trying desperately to grind back against him. Kendall can feel his muscles stretch in his stomach, taut beneath his palm. But Kendall doesn’t move, not until James can’t take the awkward angle of his neck any longer and slumps so that his forehead rests against the cool wall, and he looks like he’s close to tears from how much he needs movement. Kendall does the same thing, resting his forehead against James’s shoulder blade and gulping down clean, fresh air before he pulls back, achingly slow. He watches James’s fingers scrabble at the wall, knuckles turning white and he seems to think that Kendall’s going to pull out completely. His mouth drops open and he’s whimpering, “Don’t stop-“

His words cut off with a sharp exhalation as Kendall slams back into him.

He can feel something creeping at the edges of his vision, building higher and higher in him, lust like Jenga blocks piled one on top of another. The thready notes of sweet desire that made up the foundation are disappearing, completely consumed by brutal, reckless want. James is everything, from the tight pressure he’s fucking into to the fever hot skin pressed up against his chest to the gorgeous, sexy noises filling the room. Kendall’s entire world has been reduced down to the two of them, alone in this place and the desperation between them. He wraps his fingers around James’s cock, stroking low moans from James’s throat and reveling in the way his ass tightens around him until he’s sure that all this pleasure is going to crash down around him.

“ _James_.” He kisses the name hot on the back of his neck, smoothing his free hand along the angles of James’s face, up his forehead and into his hair, and that’s all it takes. James tightens so hard around him that for a beat Kendall can’t move, and then he’s spilling hot and fast around Kendall’s fingers, turning the places where their skin connects into a slippery mess. It’s that familiar but foreign heat and the image of James coming apart right in front of his eyes that does Kendall in, and he loses it with a shout, with James’s name like a curse and a prayer spilling from his lips as he spills inside of him.

“That was- unexpected,” Kendall decides, slumping down onto James’s body. James, who usually pretends to be superman, wobbles beneath him, unsteady. Kendall groans. He goes through the delicate process of extricating his oversensitive dick from James’s ass and practically carries James over to his bed. He’s worried that he’s going to have to sling him over his shoulder, firefighter style, before James helpfully begins to shuffle his feet.

“Really? You think?” James rolls his eyes in a way that’s entirely too sardonic for someone who can barely muster up the strength to walk.

“I mean, I didn’t think you wanted to-“

“-have the most fantastic orgasm in all the world?” James cocks an eyebrow and flops back onto Kendall’s bed. Apparently he plans on sleeping here. Kendall decides he does not have a problem with that. He slumps down beside James, curling into his chest and listening to the steady thump of his heart.

“I didn’t know you wanted _me_ to give you the _most fantastic orgasm in all the world_. Don’t you get like this when anyone touches your hair?”

“Well, yeah.” James admits, sighing contentedly. “But I didn’t let anyone fuck me. I let you.”

“Thanks for that,” Kendall breathes. “It’s been a while.”

“Mmm, sure.” James pulls him in closer. “M’sleeping here, okay?”

“Okay,” Kendall mumbles, but he’s already half out himself, hands tangled in James’s hair, lulled into dreamland by the steady beat beneath his ear.


End file.
